Well,he had been refused!--our Guy,whom we all would have imagined irresistible--our Guy,"whom to look on was to love."Some harsh folk might say this might be a good lesson for the lad--nay,for most lads;but I deny it.--I doubt if any young man,meeting at the outset of life a rejection like this,which either ignorance or heedlessness on the woman's part had made totally unexpected,ever is the better for it:perhaps,for many years,cruelly the worse.For,most women being quick-sighted about love,and most men--especially young men--blind enough in its betrayal,--any woman who wilfully allows an offer only to refuse it,lowers not only herself but her whole sex,for a long,long time after,in the lover's eyes.At least,I think so;--as I was thinking,in the way old bachelors are prone to moralize over such things,when,coming out of Guy's room,I met Mrs.Halifax.
She crossed the passage,hastily but noiselessly,to a small ante-room which Miss Silver had for her own private study--out of which half-a-dozen stairs led to the chamber where she and her pupil slept.The ante-room was open,the bed-chamber door closed.
"She is in there?"
"I believe she is."
Guy's mother stood irresolute.Her knit brow and nervous manner betrayed some determination she had come to,which had cost her hard:suddenly she turned to me.
"Keep the children out of the way,will you,Phineas?Don't let them know--don't let anybody know--about Guy.""Of course not."
"There is some mistake--there MUST be some mistake.Perhaps she is not sure of our consent--his father's and mine;very right of her--very right!I honour her for her indecision.But she must be assured to the contrary--my boy's peace must not be sacrificed.You understand,Phineas?"Ay,perhaps better than she did herself,poor mother!
Yet,when in answer to the hasty knock,I caught a glimpse of Miss Silver opening the door--Miss Silver,with hair all falling down dishevelled,and features swollen with crying,--I went away completely at fault,as the standers-by seemed doomed to be in all love affairs.I began to hope that this would settle itself somehow--in all parties understanding one another after the good old romantic fashion,and "living very happy to the end of their lives."I saw nothing more of any one until tea-time;when Mrs.Halifax and the governess came in together.Something in their manner struck me--one being subdued and gentle,the other tender and kind.Both,however,were exceedingly grave--nay,sad,but it appeared to be that sadness which is received as inevitable,and is quite distinct from either anger or resentment.
Neither Guy nor Edwin,nor the father were present.When John's voice was heard in the hall,Miss Silver had just risen to retire with Maud.
"Good-night,for I shall not come down-stairs again,"she said hastily.
"Good-night,"the mother answered in the same whisper--rose,kissed her kindly,and let her go.
When Edwin and his father appeared,they too looked remarkably grave--as grave as if they had known by intuition all the trouble in the house.Of course,no one referred to it.The mother merely noticed how late they were,and how tired they both looked.Supper passed in silence,and then Edwin took up his candle to go to bed.
His father called him back."Edwin,you will remember?""I will,father."
"Something is amiss with Edwin,"said his mother,when the two younger boys had closed the door behind them."What did you wish him to remember?"Her husband's sole reply was to draw her to him with that peculiarly tender gaze,which she knew well to be the forewarning of trouble;trouble he could not save her from--could only help her to bear.
Ursula laid her head on his shoulder with one deep sob of long-smothered pain.
"I suppose you know all.I thought you would soon guess.Oh,John,our happy days are over!Our children are children no more.""But ours still,love--always will be ours."
"What of that when we can no longer make them happy?When they look for happiness to others and not to us?My own poor boy!To think that his mother can neither give him comfort,nor save him pain,any more."She wept bitterly.
When she was somewhat soothed,John,making her sit down by him,but turning a little from her,bade her tell him all that had happened to-day.A few words explained the history of Guy's rejection and its cause.
"She loves some one else.When I--as his mother--went and asked her the question she confessed this.""And what did you say?"
"What could I say?I could not blame her.I was even sorry for her.
She cried so bitterly,and begged me to forgive her.I said I did freely,and hoped she would be happy.""That was right.I am glad you said so.Did she tell you who he--this lover,was?"
"No.She said she could not,until he gave her permission.That whether they would ever be married she did not know.She knew nothing,save that he was good and kind,and the only creature in the world who had ever cared for her.""Poor girl!"
"John,"--startled by his manner--"you have something to tell me?You know who this is--this man who has stood between my son and his happiness?""Yes,I do know."
I cannot say how far the mother saw--what,as if by a flash of lightning,_I_did;but she looked up in her husband's face,with a sudden speechless dread.
